How Special You Really Are
by kittyandstars
Summary: I always knew I was special. Just I never knew how special. A story of how Mike discover's his memory.


How Special You Really Are:

Disclaimer: I don't own suits. (WAHHHHHHH!)

"Can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?" Matchbox Twenty- How far We've Come

I always knew I was special. At age 2, I was reading the finical section of the New York Times. At age 7 I had read Romeo and Juliet; not the paraphrased version but the unabridged Shakespeare one. When I was 7, on my little hand-held radio I would listen to NPR, whenever Mom and I rode the subway, a taxi, or just sitting in my apartment in Brooklyn.

In school, while the other children agonized over their spelling words, I just looked at it once and knew it. Not only that, but I could remember anything I read later. I could tell you his first grade spelling list today, and I was 26 years old. Anything I read, the entirety of the New York Times, just name me a date, the entirety of any Kurt Vonnegut book. Well actually the entirety of any book I ever read, even if I just read it once. All I had to do was read something once, and boom! I just remembered it. I thought everyone was like this though, and the rest of the kids in my class were just lazy or defective. Yes, I actually thought kids were defective. I also accidentally hung my rabbit after seeing Law and Order.

My Impressive memory was first brought to the attention of the librarian, Miss Wiltshire in the public library by my apartment. At the age of 10 I went to check out the The Register of Debates, which contains every congressional debate from 1824-1837. Needless to say the book was pretty heavy. I walked over to the desk and hung off it by crossing my arms and hanging from there so she could see me. I was quite short and small for my age, and have terrible upper arm strength, and lower and any strength.

"Miss Wiltshire, can you help me get a book down?" I spoke to her, in a kid voice.

"Sure, sweety." Miss Wiltshire had high pitched voice, with a delicate southern accent. She sounded and looked like something out of Gone With The Wind. (Which I read at 9.) I walked over and pointed at The Register. That was when she chuckled and said "Aren't you a little young for that book?"

"No, I don't see why I am." I answered defiantly. "and if you get it down I will read and explain it to you."

"Fine." I could hear the skepticism in her voice. I opened to the section of the Indian Removal Act, and explained in detail, along with my views on the act relative to the time and climate of country.

"How the hell did you do that, Kid?" The normally polite Miss Wiltshire yelled, which drew the attention of the whole library. The fact that she swore made me cackle, which didn't help the crowd we were drawing.

By now, about 10 people had gathered around and were watching me, recite pages of books Miss Wiltshire showed me, flawlessly. I at 10 years old, adored this attention, so I uped the antie a little bit. At first I started reciting the order of the books in the law section of the library, then I went on to recite, flawlessly the second act of Romeo and Juliet. After that I started reciting Cat's Cradle, the book, not the nursery rhyme. And May 5th 1989's New York Times. I then recited the Communist Manifesto, all though I was not a communist. About an hour a half into half into my impressive feats, my mother showed up.

"Micheal Alexander Ross, me and your father were worried sick about you! You are in so much trouble!" My mom, who was stilling wearing her uniform from working at the dinner, yelled at me.

"Mom! I was just going to the library! God lighten up!" The current tension between my mom and I in that moment made everything extremely awkward for my spectators of the previous moments.

"Excuse me- mam. Your son, has a very special gift with that memory of his. I would get him examined if I were you." A man with a British accent interjected, awkwardly.

I was on my way to the Medical Center at Columbia University. I was sitting in the back of a taxi cab listening to a tape August and Everything by the Counting Crows. I was terrified. Ever since that day in the library my parents were having me recite things all of the time. The kids at school treated me like an alien. I don't even know how they found out. My teachers gave me different work, and had me help any kid that was confused. I had lost my kid status and been promoted to some awkward still kid but we will use you like an adult status without giving any adult rights or anything.

Getting out of the taxi, I was shaking. I didn't want to be different, I didn't to be put on some academic pedestal. I wanted to be a 10 year old 4th grader who watched Nickelodeon. I didn't want expectations, I either couldn't or didn't want to live up to.

The first thing the doctor guy did was an IQ test, from their reaction, I seemed to do quite well. I couldn't tell, as they wouldn't tell me. Then they did all these brain scans, where they made remember stuff while they scanned my brain. The doctor seemed way to excited at my results. By that point I had fallen asleep, in a chair with tacky red fabric that was stained with puke.

"Mrs Ross and Mike- I have some very exciting news for you." The fat hairy doctor said.

"What- huh- no I don't want any monkeys!" I yelled out disoriented from being awoken.

"Your son," he paused, "has an IQ of 171, which is 71 points above normal and is incredibly gifted. In other words your son is a genius."

"Holy Shit." My mother said, jaw literally dropped.

"He also has an eidetic memory. He remembers everything, since about the age of 3 or 4 months old."

I knew at that moment my normal life was over. I would no longer be able to be your average kid and accomplish average people things, like my average parents. I would be expected to be something special, something not average. It was like somebody set couple of average dodge neons-wait I can't use metaphors of average things can I? Wait, can I? I mean a couple of Ferrari California on my shoulders, there not average.

"Does this mean that I can't waist my time watching cartoons, and have to accomplish something with my life?" I said, dumbfounded. Despite the misnomer I briefly felt dumb.

"Well, I suggest grade advancement and private tourtring. You probably would be able to graduate by 13 years old." The doctor said, like 13 year old's fishing high-school was normal.

"Friends, wait what?" I wasn't really able to put coherent sentences together and was stumbling out random words. And then, I was crying.

"I just want to be normal! Mommy, don't make me be an adult and get a job. Mommy, I'm scared." I sobbed into my Mom's lap. I almost never cried, not when I broke my leg falling into the tracks at the subway station, not when I accidentally killed my pet rabbit, Bun Bun, by hanging him from the sealing like I saw on law and order, (I did not understand suicide.)

"But you're special, Mikey. But you're still you, and you never have to do anything you don't want to, and they still have cartoons in the 9th grade too. Someday you will see how special you really are." My mom was consoling me which helped a little, well enough to get me to stop crying.

_December 25th

"Merry Christmas Mikey!" My Mom and Dad yelled at the same time at 7:13 am. I know the exact time well, I always did, I'm getting off topic aren't I. It had been a few months since they found how "special" I was, I mean am.

"Open your present." Mike's dad said, opening a pack of Camels. I walked over to the box, which I could barely pick up. The wrapping was shotty, and I could see the labels, but I pretended not to notice but I could totally see the box. I didn't want to hurt my mom's feelings, as she was shitty wraper. Excited I started peeling off the "wrapping paper," (If you could call it that,) to revel a Hewlett Packard computer. I started screaming.

"A computer, an actual computer. I am totally making an e-mail address!" I said, convincingly You see, I completely knew how to use a computer and had an email from the library. I did however want to make them happy so I played along. Besides, I came to so relish the moment I hugged them and said "I love you guys," cause the next moment we got in the car to get some Chinese, and that was the last time I'd say I love you to them. Even though it involved a shitty Hewlett Packard Computer and a Law Encyclopedia (that I had already read.)

TBC:

A/N: Sooo... To be continued. Also I am leaving for mission trip in exactly 6 hours and 19 minutes ( 11:41 pm), so I will be gone for a week. In addition my parents start the meetings for their divorce, so I'm quite stressed. I don't know often I will be able to update, and I apoligize for that. You, know I hate real life. Anyway I love you all, and wish me luck, (even though it's my second mission trip!)-

ALLIE!


End file.
